


call it magic

by indecisively_yours



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chuck-Inspired AU, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisively_yours/pseuds/indecisively_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world’s most powerful spell-book inside Killian's head? Impossible. Magic isn’t even real. Try telling that to (Very Special) Agent Emma Swan, who’s tasked herself with protecting that spell-book—and him in the process. Oh, and that fake relationship they’re now in to help her cover? Not optional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call it magic

A sharp pain—reminding her very much of that stabbing she experienced in Phoenix—appears on her side just as she sprints across the rooftop to jump onto the next. 

The rogue agent lands with ease seconds before she does. **  
**

“Son of a bitch,” Emma mutters, landing hard on her knee and rolling her ankle in the process. She gets up with a wince, straightening out her leg as far as possible before a pain shoots up her calf and through the rest of her. “Neal!”

A blur of pressed suit and tall frame brushes past her in that instant, a male voice booming with an, “I’ve got him!” before he jumps to the next rooftop to catch up with the rogue agent. The agent stops at the ledge, crouches down, and aims his gun.

“No!” Emma shouts—but it’s too late. He squeezes the trigger. The rogue agent goes down, falling the half-story onto the ground. She jogs the remainder of the distance until the edge of the rooftop and finds him with his back on the ground, one hand clutching his bleeding shoulder while the other clutches the package. “No…”

She’s fairly certain it takes her years to reach him on her now bad ankle. He’s gasping for air by the time she finds him. Apparently that shot to the shoulder wasn’t the only injury he sustained. The red spot on his stomach grows bigger and bigger. When she crouches down next to him to apply pressure to the wound, he grabs her hand instead.

“Why didn’t you just hand it over?” Emma cries, hand sticking to his as his blood begins to cover the both of them. “You son of a bitch, all you had to do was give it to me.”

He laughs—a pained laugh before he coughs up some blood. “I can’t let him have it,” he strains to say. She looks over at the box in his hand. “You and I both know we can’t trust anyone here with it.”

_Does that mean it’s empty?_

“Neal…” She bites her lip to keep herself from practically sobbing over his dying body, especially with the agent’s footsteps slowly approaching. “Neal, what did you do?”

He coughs again as he slowly hands her the box, strength leaving his body at a quicker pace than before. “I gave it to someone you can trust. He’s…” He coughs again, this time weaker than before. “He’s good, Ems. He’ll…keep it safe.”

His head lulls to the side, fight gone from his body, just as the agent appears. She reaches up and shuts his eyes before she reaches for the box and rips it open. The agent stands before her, impatiently looking over her shoulder.

“Well?” he asks, holstering his gun back onto his side. “Is it in there?” Emma peers down into the box and sits back on her legs. “Agent Swan, is the book in there?”

Emma laughs through her tears and shakes her head. _That son of a bitch._ If she didn’t hate him so much already, she sure as hell would start now. She straightens out the crumpled diner receipt as she lets the empty state of the box answer for her.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. Phone in hand, fingers at the ready to dial back and report this to their superiors, he asks, “So what does it say? Where is it?”

There, on the other side of the diner logo and the handwritten order of a black coffee and breakfast croissant (and a stupid winking face to match) lie two words in Neal’s handwriting.

“It’s safe.”

-

“Black coffee and a croissant!” the diner owner’s booming voice comes from the other end of the counter.

A dark haired man rushes inside at the calling. He grabs the coffee cup and bag with his good hand before he turns to head out, bidding them all a good morning. He’s two steps out the door when he almost collides with the waitress.

“I’m glad I almost bumped into you!” she says and holds out a wrapped package for him. “Someone dropped this off for you. Said you’d know what to do with it once you opened it.”

He shrugs and grabs it with his prosthetic, nodding for her to let go once he’s sure he’s got a good enough grip on it. “Thanks, Ruby,” he says, eyeing the package curiously. He nods in thanks before continuing to head out.

“See you tonight!” she calls back to him. “Oh, and happy birthday!”

He holds up the package, signaling yet another thanks, before he rushes as far away from the diner as possible. 

And his birthday’s only just begun.


End file.
